gun

Poem #109 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction


he
is the gun

the pistol

the sniper’s rifle

primed
trigger tight
waiting

the image
strolls across the line

fix
focus
centre

the moment he sees
that moment
of pressure

the moment released

loosing him to fly
a bullet-word
traversing the page

there is no escape
not after he has seen it

the victim
is willing
and he
shoots straight

weapon at rest
the image transformed
it is
his trophy


© Frank Prem 2017

Bachelard and me Poem #110: weighing the world

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